“Mummy,” said my daughter, “The Christmas tree looks a mess! When I move own into my own place, I am going to have a beautiful tree like my friend Maria. Her tree is all monochrome, with the lightest colour at the top, grading down to the darkest shades at the bottom. It must take her ages to do, but it looks fantastic. I’m going to have a tree just like that.”

I was hurt; I’d just spent the afternoon putting up the Christmas decorations without help from either my husband or daughter and now all I got was criticism. I could see her point though.

Thirty years ago, when I was first single again, I bought a Christmas tree for my new house. I went out and bought ornaments – and treated myself to some nice ones. My tree was all gold: gold tinsel, gold chains of tiny bells and stars, gold mini gifts and gold teardrop shaped baubles. The tree looked rich but tasteful.

Since then, I’ve added to the ornaments, as have my husband and daughters. First it was badly drawn snowflakes covered haphazardly with glitter that the girls made at nursery, then it was ornaments that they were given, and then it was ornaments I’d seen and couldn’t resist.

My daughter pointed at the tree. “Good vibes,” she said, pointing to the gold tinsel. “Good vibes,” the gold bells. “Mess,” she said of the felt dove holding the world in its claws that I’d bought in America while visiting a friend. “Mess,” she said of the crystal pair of swans my husband and I bought together. “Mess,” she said of the colourful angels my mother sewed for us.

“Hmmm…” I said. “Well, I haven’t put your own personal ornaments on yet. Would you like to put them on now?”

“I suppose so,” she said reluctantly, and opened the box.

“Oh, I remember this!” she exclaimed, holding up a tiny snow globe. “Miss Bonnie gave that to me, the last year she was here.” She placed in carefully on the tree. “Oh, and this was from Auntie Hilary and Uncle Alex. Look, it has my name on it.” A place was found for that one too. “Father Christmas brought me this last year, and I really like it!”

And so it went on. The little glittery bird with the feather tail, the knitted angel from church, the little gingerbread man from a friend. Each piece has a special memory attached to it and each piece brought a smile of pleasure. At the end of the process, she turned to me. “I see what you mean now. The tree is sentimental rather than beautiful, and I like it.”

Yes, Christmas is messy but can be wonderful. We get together as families, and few families are neat and tidy. We scatter wrapping paper over the floor. We eat trifle for breakfast on Boxing Day.

I encourage you to be messy in your Christmas preparations. Don’t try to be perfect, just festive.

Mary

A Moodscope member